


Much Ado About Fucking

by FifteenDozenTimes



Category: Beyond Belief - Fandom, The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Demon Sex, Exhibitionism, F/M, Face-Fucking, M/M, Manhandling, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Voyeurism, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5217800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/FifteenDozenTimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well he wasn’t a werewolf at the time, dear, and he was simply trying to ensure you had a lovely first time with a man. And you certainly <i>seemed</i> to be enjoying yourself. Several times, I’ll remind you.”</p><p>“Well, sure, if an orgasm presents itself I’ll hardly turn it away. Still.”</p><p>“I’m sure we can work out all the kinks next time, darling. In a manner of speaking.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dave Henderson

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an idle "man, I bet Sadie loves to watch Frank suck cock" thought, and...grew. A lot. It was going to be a five times fic but, honestly, I couldn't think of five non-Sadie people Frank likes enough.
> 
> Thanks as ever to [epershand](archiveofourown.org/users/epershand) for encouragement, beta-ing, more encouragement, and also the title.

Dave Henderson is, to Frank’s sincere disappointment, an uncommonly gentle and considerate lover.

“Not particularly observant, for a cop,” Frank grumbles. “Chains on the bed, paddles above the bar cart, a werewolf’s strength, and me without a single scratch or bruise!”

“Well he wasn’t a werewolf at the time, dear, and he was simply trying to ensure you had a lovely first time with a man. And you certainly _seemed_ to be enjoying yourself. Several times, I’ll remind you.”

“Well, sure, if an orgasm presents itself I’ll hardly turn it away. Still.”

“I’m sure we can work out all the kinks next time, darling. In a manner of speaking.”

Frank can never sulk for long in the face of Sadie’s charm; he cheerfully tips his glass against hers and drains it before settling down for a good night’s blackout.

*

“I do not think tomorrow night is a good idea, being, as it is, less than forty-eight hours from the full moon which, as you know, will turn me into an uncontrollable wolf monster. The change, by which I mean my transformation into an inhuman beast, will already be starting to take hold by then.”

Frank hides his smile behind his glass; it wouldn’t do to appear _too_ eager, at least not yet.

“I think that would be just perfect, dear,” Sadie says, patting Dave’s knee and making no effort to conceal her own delight.

*

Dave shows up with a _six-pack_. Of _beer_. He looks unusually anxious, though, and he is doing Frank a favor, so Frank does him the return favor of expressing his disgust through facial expressions rather than words. Sadie goes so far as to offer to put some in the fridge for him. Their refrigerator! Where several bottles of liquor live! The very idea.

“You’re certain you understand what you’re getting into, Frank? I don’t generally know my own strength this close to the full moon, and I would hate to hurt you.”

Sadie takes the liberty of answering on his behalf, which is convenient, as Frank finds his mouth a bit dry at the thought.

“He understands, darling, don’t you worry.”

Dave doesn’t look less worried, but he drains his first beer in an impressive amount of time, and by the time he sets his bottle down the gaze he has aimed at Frank is just a little more intense than it was a moment before. There’s a touch of the predator to his eyes, now, that should look out of place on their generally soft, gentle, easygoing friend.

It’s quite convincing; Frank has a pretty firm line in his head between the sort of werewolf he’s met in various lines of duty, and the sort of werewolf Dave must be when he turns, but the line’s blurring a bit. With any luck it’ll blur much more before the night is through.

“Shall I fill some glasses, or would you prefer to get right to filling Frank?” Sadie laughs, loud and clear as a bell, snapping Frank out of it. “Ooh, or both! Yes, both. To the boudoir!”

Sadie eagerly leads the way. Frank follows; it might be polite to let the guest go ahead, but there’s no better place in the world than directly behind Sadie and he never passes up an opportunity to be there.

Dave falls into place behind Frank, just a touch too close for comfort, walking just a touch faster than Frank so he has to adjust his pace to avoid being stepped on. They’re maybe twenty, thirty steps from the bedroom, but the way Dave is almost _herding_ him makes it feel much farther.

Dave Henderson, two weeks from the full moon, stood back and let Frank get comfortable enough to come to him, to tilt his head up and ask for that first kiss. Dave Henderson, two days from the full moon, grabs Frank by the shoulders in the doorway, spins him around, and pushes him into the bedroom with a crash of his lips and body against Frank’s.

“Goodness,” Sadie says as she settles onto the divan. “Not wasting any time on pleasantries, are we?”

Frank starts to turn his head to look at her, but before he can manage Dave’s hand is in his hair, tight, holding him in place for one of the more...ferocious kisses of Frank’s life. Not that he’s complaining! Dave is all tongue and teeth and _taking_ , pushing Frank back towards the bed. Frank puts up a token resistance, less because he doesn’t very much want to be on the bed right away than because he’d like to see what pushing back does to this Dave.

Dave tightens his arm around Frank’s waist, lifts him - lifts him! - off his feet, and drops him on the bed somewhat harder than Frank expected. Sadie laughs, absolutely delighted. Frank knows the feeling.

“I am in less control than usual,” Dave says, panting a bit, “but I am not entirely out of control. If you tell me to stop, I will stop.”

“Noted,” Frank says. “And if I don’t?”

Dave responds by pushing Frank onto his back and tearing at his shirt. Several buttons pop off. Normally, Frank would be outraged, but if he scolds Dave it might discourage him from tearing the rest of Frank’s clothes off, and that would be less than ideal. He yanks Frank’s undershirt free of his slacks, shoves it up towards his chest with both hands, and growls -- _growls_! The very idea! -- while he rakes his short nails down Frank’s stomach.

This is more like it.

Dave scratches long, angry welts down Frank’s pale stomach one more time, then straightens up, away from the bed, away from Frank, the exact opposite of what Frank wants. He’s so busy pouting he doesn’t notice Dave tearing his own clothes off until Sadie speaks up and snaps him out of it.

“Undress, darling.”

Of course! Frank sits up and hastily removes the remains of his poor shirt and undershirt, then attempts to remove his slacks too hastily and winds up in something of a tangle of them and his underwear. Dave laughs, a hearty, not unkind laugh, and helps pull them the rest of the way off. Dave’s eyes roam over Frank’s body with rather more hunger than Frank expected, and he’ll admit he preens a bit. Much as he generally can’t abide most people, he does love receiving attention from them.

He takes the opportunity to do his own eager once-over, letting his eyes linger a bit south of the belt region. Dave Henderson has a very impressive cock, and Frank is not a man easy to impress. Dave had been so gentle last time that he recollected it as merely larger than average, which was most likely the whole idea. Frank has never been happier with a lapse in his memory.

“I think you’re embarrassing him, Frank,” Sadie says, with a laugh like the tinkling of ice in a glass. 

Frank opens his mouth with the intention of responding to her, but Dave misreads the cue and shuts him up with another of those violent kisses of his. Frank swallows back the witticism hovering on the tip of his tongue and wraps his arms around Dave’s broad back to hold him in close.

Dave works his hips against Frank’s, letting the friction of that magnificent cock of his against Frank’s drive him crazy only to distract him with a rough bite of Frank’s lower lip or a yank on his curls. Two weeks before the full moon, Dave was focused, zeroing in on one thing at a time before moving on to the next. Current Dave can’t seem to decide whether to devour Frank or drive him mad, much less which body part to start with no matter which of those he wants to achieve.

It’s a good change. Frank closes his eyes against the maelstrom of sensations and tries to shut his brain off, to focus on nothing more difficult than reacting to whatever Dave does next.

Then Dave pulls away again. What an infuriating man.

Frank opens his eyes to Dave leaning away, reaching for the cut crystal bottle on the nightstand, so at least this particular loss of contact is promising in the short term. Dave pulls the stopper out with his teeth -- a bit cliche, but Frank’s beyond pretending it doesn’t send a thrill down his spine -- pours a truly absurd amount of the slick liquid inside over his thick fingers, and shifts down the bed to start opening Frank up.

He doesn’t waste any time, starts with two fingers that are, together, at least as thick as three of Sadie’s, and Frank throws his head back and nearly howls his approval. That may have been a mistake; Dave stops moving and his brow furrows in concern.

“Too much? I seem to have gotten ahead of myself.”

“He’s fine,” Sadie says, voice pitched a touch lower than usual. Frank flushes with pride. “He’s actually quite greedy. You can give him everything you have and it wouldn’t be enough.”

“That’s true,” Frank manages, around the lump in his throat. Dave can’t possibly need to be told this, what with Frank writhing on the bed trying to take him in deeper, but Frank won’t pretend to understand the inner workings of a man who needs quite so much talking into a good hard fuck.

Dave’s look of concern eases only a slightly, but he at least starts easing his fingers in and out. It’s slower than Frank would like, but that gives him time to really appreciate how rough his fingers are compared to Sadie’s. Frank’s eyes keep fluttering shut as Dave works him open, but he fights them back open every time, drinking in Dave’s gaze as it shifts from concerned to fascinated to that predatory hunger of earlier in the evening.

Frank doesn’t know whether he’d rather be driven mad or devoured in this moment. Not that his preferences matter.

Dave pushes Frank’s left leg back with his free hand, spreading him wider, watching his fingers pump in and out of Frank with remarkable intensity. Frank gives up on watching, lets his eyes slip closed and his head fall back as he pushes into the stretch of his thigh muscles and the sharp-edged fullness of Dave’s rough fingers inside him. Dave fucks him slow and steady in a maddeningly gentle rhythm until Frank can’t control the roll of his hips or the sounds coming from somewhere primal within him. 

“Should I give him more?” Dave asks. Frank doesn’t hear Sadie answer, but the next time Dave pushes in there’s a third finger. Frank has, according to Sadie, taken objects bigger than Dave’s cock before, but at the moment he’s not sure he’s taken anything bigger than Dave’s fingers. He’s stretched wide, in so many ways, opening up for Dave, for those thick fingers, that incredible cock, for the way his eyes are burning as he watches Frank writhe.

And then he’s empty, so empty, all at once. Frank whines, rolls his head to the side and wrestles his eyes open so he can make sure Sadie’s aware of how cruelly he’s being treated right now. She seems less outraged than focused, wearing a look not entirely unlike the one she wears during a particularly intense bidding war, and she’s not looking at his face at all.

Dave grunts, low and deep, drawing Frank’s attention away from Sadie to the very thing she’s focused so intently on - Dave’s fist, wrapped around his own cock, slicking himself up to finally, finally give Frank what he’s after.

Two weeks ago, Dave had pushed in gently, stopping every inch or so to let Frank adjust, to pet soothingly at his thighs and stomach and keep it from getting too intense. Tonight, Dave is still slower than Frank would like, but steady, lets Frank feel every single inch as he takes it, and takes it, and takes it until there isn’t any more to take. 

Frank is on fire. He’s been on literal fire before, so he’s confident the metaphor applies. There’s pressure in his chest, in the back of his throat, making him gasp for air, making him feel like Dave’s going to go right through him. He grasps at the sheets, at the headboard, flailing around a bit for something that will ground him, let him steady himself so he’s not quite so overwhelmed by the situation.

Dave doesn’t seem to notice, or care, the state Frank’s in. With a growl - a growl! Frank is, apparently, very into growling - he pulls out nearly all the way, taking Frank’s ability to speak or breathe with him. Taking Frank’s very soul with him, probably.

“You’re doing beautifully, darling,” Sadie says, and that’s it, that’s what he needs to latch onto, the low smoky register of Sadie’s voice and the sweet flush of her praise in his veins. He _is_ doing beautifully, he really is.

Frank nearly loses his mind again when Dave pushes back in, still slow, just as steady, thighs and arms shaking a bit with the effort of holding back. His eyes are wild, hungry in the best way, and if Frank had the power to form words instead of shapeless noises he’d be pointing out there’s no reason to hold anything back, now, not when neither of them wants that.

“You can take him as roughly as you want, Dave, darling.” Sadie, as usual, to the rescue. Dave’s eyes flick over to her on the divan, looking much more collected and much less aroused than her voice would indicate, and then back to Frank, to roam over his body held taught as a bowstring in anticipation of the truly spectacular pounding he expects to receive.

Whatever he sees must satisfy him, because he groans like he’s being torn in two and starts thrusting into Frank with all the force of a 200-pound werewolf two days away from the big change. Dave leans forward, buries his face in Frank’s neck and bites down, gentle at first, then harder as he loses more and more control. The slap of skin on skin as he fucks Frank hard and fast is deafening, topped only by the cries being knocked out of Frank’s chest with every thrust. 

There are only three things in the world, everything else has fallen away. There is Dave’s cock, filling him up so perfectly, emptying him out again, filling him up again, lighting him up. There is the spot above his collarbone, the meaty bit that’s not quite neck, not quite shoulder, alive with the pain of Dave’s teeth making everything that much sweeter. And there is, above it all, the musical tinkle of ice in a glass as Sadie pours herself another.

Frank is - was - a demon hunter, and a superlative one at that. He is - was - a man of action, a man with excellent situational awareness and the ability to maintain a cool head until the moment it no longer served him. He is, at this moment, overwhelmed in a way that is at once entirely familiar and entirely foreign, control abandoned to lust in the way it used to be abandoned to rage.

Dave’s pressed against him, everywhere, stomach brushing Frank’s cock in a way that is very likely to get him where he needs to go but much slower than he intends to get there. There’s nothing Frank can do about it. He has no leverage, no will to move, nothing left but the ability to lie there and take it, as much as Dave will give, as little as Dave will give, everything and nothing in equal measure.

The skin so abused by Dave’s teeth gives up, breaks in a sweet rush of pain not entirely unlike the rush of orgasm, and that’s it, that’s all he needs, teasing brush of Dave’s stomach be damned. Frank can feel himself wailing but can barely hear it over the rush of blood in his ears as he comes all over himself, all over Dave.

Dave pulls away from Frank’s shoulder and crushes his mouth against Frank’s in a sloppy kiss that’s more teeth and pressure than lips or tongue. His thrusts go erratic, he pulls out less and less with each stroke until he’s barely moving, and comes deep inside Frank. 

Beneath the haze of his senses slowly returning to him, Frank is dimly aware of soft footsteps on the carpet and the mattress shifting to accommodate Sadie. He can smell her perfume blended beautifully with a hint of sweat when she leans into murmur something into Dave’s ear, too low for Frank to make out.

Dave pushes himself up, the change of angle and the softening of his cock combining to leave Frank empty again, empty and shivering at the sudden change from the warmth of Dave draped over him like a blanket to the chill of bedroom air. Frank has had near-death experiences, plenty of them, and spent a large part of his young life sober, but this is the worst thing he’s ever felt.

Sadie’s fingers, cool from the glass she’d been holding all night, comb gently through his disheveled hair, and Dave pets clumsily at his stomach and thighs, and the worst of the empty feeling gradually slips away. Dave, chest still heaving from exertion, furnace-warm, falls down next to Frank, eyes losing their predatory gleam as he returns to himself.

“Do you need anything, Dave?” Sadie asks, as she curls against Frank, never letting her fingers stray from his hair. “A shower, a nap, a stiff drink?”

“I would like to catch my breath,” Dave says, a little extra hoarseness to his voice. “As I am having some trouble breathing, due to exertion. And then I think I’ll go right home, as I have been led to believe Donna would prefer I do not shower first. She led me to that belief by taking my hand and dragging me there, as it were, as she told me in very plain words those were her wishes.”

There’s a hot swooping feeling low in Frank’s gut at the thought of Dave going back to his wife, stinking of sweat - his own, and Frank’s - and come - again, his own, and Frank’s - and showing off for her. Sadie laughs a low, musical laugh that he’s fairly certain means she’s having the same reaction.

“You really should get a sitter next time,” she says, the steely set of her voice when she gives an order lurking beneath the warmth of a cordial suggestion. “It’s a shame for her to miss out.”

“I will see what I can do,” Dave says; he won’t. Sadie will call Donna, and Donna will see what she can do, and she’ll be here next time come Hell or high water. Even if those things come, really, they’ve all seen stranger.

Dave pushes himself up on an elbow and leans over to capture Frank’s lips in perhaps the gentlest, sweetest kiss Frank has ever experienced. He cups Frank’s cheek with his free hand, gently keeping him in place, and when Frank’s good and melted into it he pulls away.

“That was very nice,” he says. “I hope it was not too much.”

“It was exactly the right amount, dear,” Sadie says, without giving Frank the chance to find his words. That’s alright, she’s better at finding them. “Although, I can’t help but notice that you bit him. Will that be a problem, werewolf-wise?”

“It will not, for I am not a werewolf yet. I will be a werewolf in two days time, that is, after forty-eight hours have passed, and if I were to bite him then it would be a very big problem, but as I am not currently a werewolf at this time, it is no problem at all.

Dave smiles at her, then leans over Frank to give her one of those same sweet kisses. That was not, at all, on the table, but the usual jealousy sits flat and lifeless in the back of Frank’s mind, dulled by exhaustion and by the smile in Sadie’s eyes when she pulls away.

“Give Donna my love,” she says, with a saucy wink, when Dave finishes dressing - none of _his_ clothes were damaged, of course - and stands in the bedroom doorway, suddenly awkward. “Give it to her a few times, perhaps.”

Dave laughs, awkward set of his shoulders shaking away with it, and then he’s gone. Sadie turns those flirty eyes and smiling mouth on Frank, and he smiles somewhat sleepily in response. He’d rather sleep than drink right now, which is really saying something.

“You had fun, Frankenstein?”

“Of course. And you, love?”

Sadie’s smile curls into something darker, loaded with intent, a look he’s seen often enough, with enough wonderful results, that his cock attempts to get hard again just at the idea. It fails, of course, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Or notice.

“I did,” she says, and shifts up on her knees, pulling her nightgown over her head as she does so. Gracefully, as always, she throws one leg over Frank’s chest and starts moving upwards, to take her favorite seat on his face. “And I will,” she says, as she lowers herself to his mouth.

She will. He’ll make sure of it.


	2. Chachacat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You shoulda said somethin’ sooner, Frankie! I’m always open to new experiences.”
> 
> “Never been with a man?” Frank asks.
> 
> “Not one who expected to survive,” Chachacat says, still grinning, emphasizing it with a wink. Frank is, for one of the very few times in his life, at a loss for words.
> 
> “This one will certainly survive, Chachacat,” Sadie says, all cold steel and stern eyebrows.

Sadie summons Chachacat in the kitchen, after banishing Frank to the sitting room. If Sadie were someone else, someone who loved him less, someone he trusted less, he’d assume she’s keeping him away from the rule-setting conversation so she can convince Chachacat not to participate. Sadie wouldn’t do that to him, though, and if he truly believed she was that concerned by the idea he would have let it drop.

Still, they talk for an awfully long time, long enough for Frank to drain the bottle they’d started before the summoning and start on a new one. He’s well into it when Sadie, walking that satisfied walk of hers, the one that comes out after she’s laid down the law and gotten someone else to submit to her benevolent iron fist, enters the room, the cheerful fire demon trailing behind her.

“You shoulda said somethin’ sooner, Frankie! I’m always open to new experiences.”

“Never been with a man?” Frank asks.

“Not one who expected to survive,” Chachacat says, still grinning, emphasizing it with a wink. Frank is, for one of the very few times in his life, at a loss for words.

“This one will certainly survive, Chachacat,” Sadie says, all cold steel and stern eyebrows.

“Of course, of course! That’s what makes it new. So, yeah, you practice that incantation, Sadie, and Frankie, I’ll see _you_ tomorrow night.”

He disappears in a puff of acrid smoke, and Frank attempts to keep his expression neutral until Sadie reacts.

“You’re sure about this?” she asks, finally, staring at the scorch marks on the carpet. They’ll have to summon that cleaning sprite who owes them a favor, when this is all over.

“I am,” he says, “but if you aren’t, It’s alright.”

“He gave me an incantation to bind him to my will. And I will absolutely not hesitate to use it if I need to. So yes, love, I’m alright with it.”

“Excellent,” Frank says, and finally lets his delight show in his face.

*

Chachacat drops his hand from Frank’s cock and slides it up his chest, spreading his fingers out over Frank’s heart to feel it beating. He holds Frank tight, keeping him from collapsing fully into the mattress like he wants to. His rhythm changes, slightly, to match Frank’s pulse; Frank’s not sure he even realizes he’s doing it. 

“You alive?” he asks, low and raspy in Frank’s ear. Frank’s not sure if it’s a genuine question or not, but Chachacat’s currently got his face pinned so well into the mattress he can’t really answer either way. Frank can’t quite gather himself enough to form words, anyway. Chachacat either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care that Frank just came quite spectacularly, hasn’t changed anything but his rhythm. Frank’s nerves are singing, every single one of them, hairline to toes, with some sensation that isn’t entirely pleasure but isn’t quite pain, either.

“You feel real good,” Chachacat says, and nips at Frank’s ear just a bit too hard. Frank cries out into the mattress, feeling too much already to handle anything new.

“Chachacat, dear,” Sadie says, from the divan, and if she picks now to use that incantation and stop what Chachacat’s doing to him Frank will…well he’ll do _something_ , probably, when he regains the use of his brain, and his limbs, and if he can ever figure out a way to best Sadie at anything. “You may need to give him a little rest.”

“No!” Frank says, but it’s lost to the mattress; by the time he manages to work himself up to his elbows, Chachacat’s hips have stilled with just the tip of his cock still inside Frank. “I’m fine,” he says, “really. Really, you can keep -” he cuts himself off with a groan when Chachacat pulls the rest of the way out.

“I do what the lady tells me, Frankie,” he says, then grabs Frank by the hips and flips him over onto his back. Chachacat isn’t so much strong as he is a large dog to Frank’s under-stuffed chew toy. He doesn’t even seem to notice Frank has any weight at all. 

Chachacat’s hands are hot as they roam curious over his body. Sadie must have had a good long talk with him about safe human body temperatures, but it’s apparently too much effort to keep his temperature quite as low as Frank’s. It’s good, every pass of his overheated hands followed by a chill, Frank’s skin prickling into goosebumps even as some other part of him is being warmed. 

Frank is disappointed by the change of activity, but it’s an opportunity to get a good look at Chachacat, significantly more human-looking than he normally is thanks to the lack of flames swirling around him. He’s shorter than Frank realized, broader, so nearly just an average man except for the firelight glow of him. His cock, currently dripping with lubricant and arousal, is short, and thick, and Frank _wants_ it, oversensitivity be damned.

“I think that’s enough of a rest,” Frank says, testing. Sadie doesn’t scold him, so it must be alright, but Chachacat’s too busy brushing his thumbs over Frank’s nipples and watching him squirm to do anything. He seems absolutely entranced by every little thing he does to Frank; maybe he really hasn’t been with a human before.

Frank pouts, but resigns himself to just letting Chachacat have at him. It’s not as good as the knife-edge thrill of being fucked so nicely through his orgasm and beyond, but there’s something about being entirely at the whim of a demon who could kill him much more easily than satisfy him. Frank’s getting into it, really, the shivering overstimulation giving way to a gentler pleasure he can really savor.

Then Chachacat leans in to wrap his lips around Frank’s soft cock and he nearly hits the ceiling. Chachacat’s mouth is even hotter than the rest of him, and he’s so - he’s just exploring, figuring out Frank’s cock with his tongue and lips the way he’s been figuring out Frank’s body with his hands. If he were a different person, Frank would push him away, would accept that this is a little too much to take, but he’s Frank Doyle and he has never once backed down from a challenge. He’ll take it, all of it, and more when Chachacat wants to give it.

Frank rolls his head to the side, fights his eyes open to watch Sadie watching him. She’s shed the look of concern, gone back to trusting Frank to know what he wants, trusting Chachacat to give it to him, and her eyes are heavy-lidded, focused on the heaving of Frank’s chest as he gulps in air. He knew she’d enjoy this, if she gave it a chance.

Against all odds, Frank’s cock starts to harden again in Chachacat’s mouth, so slowly Frank can almost feel the blood being diverted from the rest of his body inch by inch. Chachacat’s fiery eyebrows shoot up, whether because he’s startled or delighted Frank can’t tell, and he doubles down on the intensity. He’s still unfocused, though, still just working his tongue around Frank’s increasingly hard cock, getting a feel for it, getting a taste of it.

The thing about getting fucked by a demon, it seems, is similar to the thing about battling one: demons don’t really get mortality, don’t really understand flesh, and genuinely do not care about your pitiful easily-damaged body. Chachacat certainly seems to be enjoying Frank’s body, enjoying Frank’s reactions, but for the most part Frank is just a warm - or, probably, cool, to Chachacat - place to put his cock, a little diversion to break up the monotony of eternity.

Being so thoroughly unimportant to the proceedings is, it turns out, a powerful aphrodisiac. Frank’s body is moving in slow motion, like his brain can’t send messages to any part of him in a reasonable amount of time, but his nerves are going full-throttle, and he’s at the mercy of not only Chachacat but himself. His cock aches in Chachacat’s mouth, too hard too fast, and all of a sudden Chachacat lets out a deep, rumbling groan that shakes Frank to his very core and slides his mouth up to focus that quick tongue of his on the very tip of Frank’s cock. He sucks, greedily, at the head, as cold air strikes the saliva-slick flesh of the abandoned shaft, and laps at the slit, drinking up the leaking evidence of Frank’s overwhelming arousal.

Frank’s going to come again. Frank’s going to come, again, already, and the force of it might kill him and Chachacat won’t care. The thought burns bright low in Frank’s gut, _he won’t care_ , and his cock jerks in Chachacat’s mouth. That startles Chachacat out of his suddenly very-focused assault, and he looks up at Frank with a dirty smirk.

“You good?” he asks, somewhere between his demonic growl and the voice he normally uses. “Enough of a break?”

“I never wanted a break in the first place,” Frank says, even though the answer probably should be _let me catch my breath and gather my wits about me_. Sadie laughs, so she must approve, and in one smooth motion Chachacat lifts himself to his knees and slides his cock back into Frank. Frank cries out, tightens his fingers in the sheets so hard he can hear something tearing. Chachacat, of course, doesn’t give Frank any time to adjust, just settles back into the same punishing rhythm he fucked Frank to orgasm with once already. Frank tries to lift his hips, give Chachacat more access, but he has no leverage so he just drops his head back and lets himself feel.

One of Chachacat’s warm hands wraps around his hip, holding tight enough to bruise so he can fuck Frank harder; the other lands on the bed next to Frank’s ear, close enough he can feel the heat of his…skin? Whatever he has instead of skin. The angle is perfect, lets Chachacat achieve a new depth, sending sparks up Frank’s spine with every thrust, and it’s even better when Chachacat leans forward more, tilts Frank’s hips up more, and presses his lips to Frank’s.

He’s a clumsy kisser, almost certainly fairly new to it, but Frank’s too fucked-out and focused on the cock inside him to be much better. He manages to let go of the sheets so he can get his arms around Chachacat’s back and hold on for dear life. Frank just takes, takes Chachacat’s cock, takes his tongue, savors the way his body keeps heating up and cooling down. Just by lying here, just by taking, by letting Chachacat have his way with him, Frank is compromising Chachacat’s self-control. It’s an incredible feeling, almost better than the actual physical sensations he’s being barraged with.

Chachacat’s stomach brushes just right against Frank’s cock, and his orgasm takes him entirely by surprise. It nearly hurts, it’s so intense, but just nearly, right on that edge between good and bad Frank loves so much. Chachacat stops kissing him when he pulls away to gasp for air, but - as could have been anticipated - doesn’t stop fucking Frank, doesn’t so much as change his pace.

“I think - “ Sadie starts, but she cuts herself off with a gasp as Chachacat gets his hands under Frank, lifts him entirely off the bed, and shifts back on his knees so Frank is on his lap. It’s an astonishing display of strength, and the influence of gravity has him taking Chachacat even deeper, and if he hadn’t just come he’d be in danger of getting off just from the idea of what just happened. Sadie raises no further objection, perhaps as delighted by Frank being manhandled this way as he is.

“You feel so good,” Chachacat mutters, keeping his hips still and using his arms to work Frank up and down on his cock. “I love that thing you do, where you get all tight and then relax.”

Frank just moans in response, holding tight to Chachacat’s back and letting himself be thrown around. Chachacat starts working his hips again soon enough, fucking up hard into Frank and jolting little grunts out of him Frank can’t seem to control. Chachacat’s just rumbling, not quite a Dave Henderson growl but not quite a normal human sound either, and Frank’s just along for the ride and he loves it, never wants it to end. There’s an ache in his thighs, muscles pushed to their limit, and another, sweeter, sharper ache as his cock hardens up _again_. Everything hurts, everything feels better than anything Frank’s ever felt, he’s flying out of his mind with it.

Chachacat pulls Frank off his cock, too soon, ignoring Frank’s desperate, disappointed groan, and drops him on the bed so hard Frank’s breath _oof_ s out of him. There’s something absolutely intoxicating, in a not entirely unfamiliar way, about a demon looming over him, heaving shoulders, skin glowing hot and cooling back down as he tries to keep himself safe for Frank to even touch. Whatever Chachacat decides to do next, however he tries to take his pleasure from Frank’s body, could very well kill him, and Frank’s not entirely sure he would mind. A good way to go, even, fucked right over the edge one last time and just never coming back from it.

“Chachacat,” Sadie says, a little too cool, a little too stern, “I think you’d better finish soon.”

“Oh, right, no problem!” he says, and grins at Sadie. He wraps his cock and Frank’s up in one of those rough, over-hot hands, and strokes them both in a frantic, punishing rhythm. Frank can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t process how good it feels, hot hand, hot cock, too much not enough friction. He comes, howling, flipping from needy to overcome so quickly he nearly pushes Chachacat off before he finishes. It only takes Chachacat another few strokes, though, before he comes all over Frank’s stomach, so hot it makes the rest of him feel frozen in comparison. Chachacat flops down next to Frank on the bed with a sigh and a satisfied grin. “So how was that?”

Frank opens his mouth to answer, but can’t form an actual word, and Sadie laughs from the divan. “I think he liked it, dear, although it may have been a bit much.”

Chachacat’s fiery eyebrows scrunch in concern. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Frank manages, finally. “Better than fine. Quite good.” _I could die at his hand and I’d be okay with that_ flashes into his mind, again; fine might not be the right word, but no use worrying Sadie or making Chachacat feel bad.

“Good,” Chachacat say.

Frank closes his eyes and drifts a little, untethered. He feels off balance, brain buzzing uselessly around thoughts he can’t quite grab onto. He’s empty, and cold, and half believes when he opens his eyes he’ll be alone in the room, he’ll have always been alone. The bed shifts, and there’s a warm presence next to him, and soft lips on his cheek, and of course he’s not alone, of course Sadie’s been here all along. He manages to open his eyes to Sadie’s soothing smile.

“You’re alright,” she says. “You were beautiful.”

Frank flushes with pride and tucks himself against her more tightly. He won’t float away, with Sadie keeping him on the ground.

“Hey, I’m starving. You guys want some hot dogs? We could all go out for hot dogs, my treat,” Chachacat says, and Sadie frowns.

“I don’t usually,” she starts, pauses, and starts again. “What if you went to get some hot dogs and brought them back for us?”

“Hey, no problem!” Chachacat says, and in a burst of flame he’s gone. There’s a charred outline on the bed where he was just laying, good thing Frank already ruined these sheets. Frank… misses him, almost instantly, can’t wrap his head around why Chachacat, of all people - beings - not being there would make him feel so _sad_.

“Frank, love, focus on my voice,” Sadie says, combing one hand through his hair and letting the other rest on his chest. “You did very well, I think he pushed you a little bit too far, and I’d like to bring you back.”

Frank does not, ever, disappoint Sadie, and if she wants him to focus and snap out of it then by God he will. He shuts his eyes again, focuses on the first clear thought to drift across his mind - _you were beautiful_ \- and uses it to claw his way back to reality.

“I’m here,” he says, and opens his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Good.”

“That was - “

“Never going to happen again,” Sadie says, stern, and Frank opens his mouth to argue but once again that thought, that moment, _I could die at his hand and I’d be okay with that_ flickers into his mind. It’s been a long, long time since he’s felt that way.

“Of course not,” he says. “Strictly a one time thing.”

Sadie smiles at him, so sweet, and kisses him so softly it almost feels like he’s imagining it. Chachacat poofs back with a cheerful smile and an armful of hot dogs, leaving another charred mess, and Sadie doesn’t even look down her nose at him when he devours his share of the post-coital snacks.


	3. Carter Caldwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So he calls Carter, startles him so with the abruptness of the question he loses the power of speech, and then hands the phone to Sadie so she can have the customary outlining-the-rules talk. She slinks into Frank’s lap after she hangs up and smiles at him so wickedly he goes a bit weak-kneed.

Frank’s not certain he has a type, at least a type other than Sadie, but if he does have one, Carter Caldwell really isn’t it. Still, his had been the first name Sadie brought up when they’d talked about this whole gentleman lover experiment, and Frank maybe owes her one after the whole Chachacat affair. Frank’s a little raw around the edges from that himself, still, but not so raw he wouldn’t rather Sadie stop reminding him he’s forbidden to have a death wish, no matter how racy the manner of death he wishes.

So he calls Carter, startles him so with the abruptness of the question he loses the power of speech, and then hands the phone to Sadie so she can have the customary outlining-the-rules talk. She slinks into Frank’s lap after she hangs up and smiles at him so wickedly he goes a bit weak-kneed. 

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, darling, and you do so love to be worshiped.”

“Not the word I would use,” Frank says, “but true enough.”

“We’ll have a lovely time, the three of us,” she says. “But first, how about we have a lovely time, just the two of us?”

“I think you meant the four of us, love. You forgot to count our glasses.”

“Of course! How thoughtless of me.” Sadie tips her glass against Frank’s with a laugh nearly sweeter than the resulting _clink_ , and then slips out of his lap and leads him to bed.

*

Carter opens up so nicely for him, relaxing against the push of Frank’s slick finger and drawing him in. He’s calmed down, a little, with Sadie draped against him, making sweet soothing noises and petting at his hair, but his stomach jumps when Frank crooks his finger, or blows a cool stream of air against the damp skin of his cock.

It’s not ideal, Sadie paying so much attention to someone who isn’t Frank, but when he glances up her eyes are on him, heavy-lidded and glinting, and if this is how she wants to do this, Frank will make it good. 

Frank pulls his finger out, cock twitching at the desperate groan that gets from Carter. Frank knows that feeling well, that needy emptiness, that sudden clear conviction that you’ll never be full again, so he’s quick to add more lubricant and push back inside with two fingers. Carter sighs and rolls his hips, takes Frank deeper, biting his lip, watching Frank nearly as intently as Sadie through those absurdly thick glasses. It’s a good look on him, pink cheeks and quick breaths, falling apart at Frank’s hands. He’s good at this.

“Well look at that, darling,” Sadie says, low and nearly more breath than words, “you give as well as you take.”

Frank flushes warm with pride, fucks Carter harder, faster, until he finds the rhythm that has Carter’s breath catching with every thrust. One hand is tangled in the sheets, clutching white-knuckled, the other clasped with Sadie’s. Frank just watches, watches Carter fall apart, watches Sadie’s eyes roam over Carter’s body, over the muscles in Frank’s arm as he fucks Carter. Sadie’s eyes flick between Frank’s mouth and Carter’s cock, leaking wetness onto his stomach, a few times, and Frank can take a hint.

Carter’s cock is warm, salty with sweat and just a little bitter, satisfyingly weighty on Frank’s tongue. Frank lets his eyes slip closed and just savors the stretch of his lips and the high, needy noises Carter makes. He generally prefers being done to rather than doing, but there’s something to this, to being in control for once, to giving pleasure, to seeing what he can do to someone else just with fingers and tongue.

Frank takes Carter deep, holding him there just long enough to make his eyes tear up a little, then pulls up to suck at the slick head, flick his tongue against the opening where the taste of his need is the thickest. He gets into a good rhythm, swallowing to the hilt, pulling up to tease, and again, and again, loving the way Carter’s hips jerk against Frank’s fingers inside him and Frank’s mouth hot around him. Carter’s wild with it, again, getting louder and more desperate, walking that line between letting Frank give it to him and taking what he needs. 

Frank curls his fingers on the next push in, twists his wrist a little, and there, there it is, Carter topples over the edge and comes in Frank’s mouth with a broken cry. Frank sucks him through it, keeps his fingers in deep, makes Carter feel every sweet second of it, and when he finally pulls back Carter’s chest is flushed and his eyes are glassy.

“That was - “ Carter starts, but doesn’t seem to know how to finish.

“Splendid, darling,” Sadie says and laughs when Frank makes a show of licking his lips for her. Frank is in an entirely different head space than he expected to be, only dimly aware how hard he is, more focused on pleasing Sadie than anything else. Like any other night, really, he just wants to make her happy, make her feel good, and whatever he gets out of it is just icing. “Now, what do you want?”

“Whatever you want, love,” he says, hoarse from Carter’s cock. Sadie laughs, again.

“This is supposed to be about the two of you.”

“I’d like to suck your cock,” Carter says, all of a sudden, the first full sentence he’s managed since Frank started taking his clothes off. “Please.”

Frank knows that tone of voice, knows that look, and it all of a sudden becomes clear what it is about Carter that doesn’t appeal to him - they’re too alike. Carter wants Frank to give, and push, and take him over the way Frank wants Sadie, Dave, Chachacat, to do the same, and it never occurred to him he might enjoy a little role reversal. Well, no time like the present.

“Then I guess you’d better get over here,” Frank says, tries and probably fails to sound the sort of stern that really gets him going. It works for Carter, though, if that little shiver is any indication, and when Frank sits back on his knees Carter’s eyes are drawn right to his cock. Carter _needs_ , and Frank can certainly understand that.

Sadie hums her approval and takes Carter’s glasses before he crawls down the bed towards Frank. He pauses, so close Frank can feel his breath, waiting for…something. Frank glances at Sadie, who just raises an eyebrow at him, then takes a chance and slips his fingers into Carter’s hair. He doesn’t pull, or move him at all, just tightens his fingers a bit, and that seems to do it. Carter moans and surges forward, wrapping his lips around Frank’s cock and sucking greedily.

Frank gasps, all the arousal he’d been ignoring floating up to the surface at the feeling of Carter’s mouth hot and soft and wet around him, and tightens his fingers in Carter’s hair. Carter moans, the noise shivering right through Frank, and takes him deeper, sucks harder, so eager to please. It’s good, on this side of it, and Frank keeps his grip tight on Carter’s hair as he thrusts his hips forward just a little, just to show Carter how well he’s doing, to see how Carter reacts.

Carter’s whole mouth goes soft, slack; he holds still for what feels like hours, waiting, and Frank takes his cue. He fucks into Carter’s mouth, shallow thrusts at first, still just testing, but deeper, and faster, as Carter just moans and clutches at his hips. Frank cups the back of Carter’s head with the hand not tangled in his soft hair, holds him still so he can fuck him faster, harder. Carter seems to be enjoying himself, digging his fingers into Frank’s skin, groaning sweet and rough around Frank’s cock, saliva dripping from his lips when Frank pulls out.

It’s good, that used feeling, Frank’s favorite feeling in the whole world; this is pretty up there, though, watching Carter take it, watching Carter need it, making him need it and then giving it to him. Frank can feel himself rushing towards the edge, and with a superhuman effort he pulls away from Carter’s lovely mouth, gets his hand around his cock, and with two, three strokes comes all over Carter’s face.

“Goodness,” Sadie says, eyes wide. Carter’s just looking up at him, absolutely wrecked, absolutely satisfied. It’s a good feeling, Frank knows it well. “Here, darling.” Sadie hands Carter a cloth from the bedside table so he can clean himself off before they boot him out to spend some time with each other. Always so considerate, his Sadie.

Frank shifts around to lie next to her, stretching out all his sore muscles with a sigh. Sadie smiles down at him, radiant as ever, and he leans up to kiss her, slow and sweet. Sadie giggles into it, a little bit, then relaxes into him with a little moan. No need to wonder whether this one was worth her while.

Carter clears his throat at the foot of the bed, and Sadie breaks away to glance down at him.

“Yes?”

“You can go,” Frank says. “Thank you.”

“I can - “ Carter says, pauses long enough Frank turns to look at him as well. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not, darling, you were lovely.”

“But you want me to leave?”

“Nothing personal, old man, we just value our solitude. With each other.”

“Oh! I still have your glasses, here you go.”

Carter looks a little lost. It’s possible Sadie forgot to explain this part of it over the phone, but that’s no excuse for being difficult. Frank has plans for the rest of the evening, which include a lot of Sadie rewarding him for a good show and very little of her paying attention to anyone else.

“Oh, dear, don’t look so lost. Of course you can stay.”

“Of course he can stay?”

“Exactly,” Sadie says, and with a big, grateful smile, Carter settles in between them. 

*

“Sadie, I must admit, I feel a bit of a Goldilocks about this.”

“Chachacat was too hot, and Carter was too cold, you mean?”

“Exactly. Now, Dave Henderson, that may have been just right.”

“That was lovely. The size of that man! But, darling, I thought you wanted to experiment.”

“Sure,” Frank says, “I did. But I’ve only ever needed one woman in my life, so why assume I need more than one man?”

Sadie laughs and kisses him. “A good point! Well, then, I’ll just give Donna a call, and see when they can get a sitter.”

“You are the best wife anyone could hope for, Sadistic.”

“And don’t you forget it, Frankenstein.”


End file.
